


Haven Falling

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Frostback Mountains, Haven (Dragon Age), early romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Solas's perspective on what is happening when Haven burns and the Inquisitor is thought to be possibly dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven Falling

The cold bit at his flesh even as the fires raged around him.

_She isn’t dead. She can’t be._

He clutched his staff tightly, rushing through the maddening screaming panic, the bells ringing a deafening chime that rattled his core. His eyes scanned the rush of people, scarcely able to breathe. He had heard the call to take shelter in the Chantry, but he had to find her. He had to know she was safe. He pushed past the stream of terrified faces, tried to cut through as they fled in the opposite direction. There were bodies, pieces of bodies, charred flesh and exposed bone. He would spot a corpse with fair hair and his breaths would catch until he could assure himself that the shape was wrong, the skin too pale. She would not have lain in the clusters of dead around the entrances to burning houses. She would not be trying to hide or take shelter. If he knew her at all, she would be wherever the fighting was.

He could hear Cullen shouting over the din, calling for his men to fall back as he neared the front gate. There were Templars clambering over the wall, penetrating their defenses while the innocent ran for cover. He readied his weapon, freezing and blasting, clearing a path, his pursuit never pausing. He was not there to become trapped in combat. If she died, this was all for nothing.

He heard her before he saw her, screaming curses in Elvish. He turned as she took a pommel strike to the head, crumpling to the ground. The Templar who delivered the hit loomed over her, lifting his sword for a killing blow. Power surged from Solas without thought, his chest constricting, the barrier glimmering around her skin. The blade did not have a chance to meet its mark before the knight was consumed in a blaze of lightning, arcing and surging through his metal armor. She cast from her fallen position, snarling and feral as blood flowed from the wound above her brow. The Templar fell into a twitching heap of lifeless flesh.

  
The intensity of his relief was staggering as he ran to her. Her chest heaved as she slowly sat up, wiping away blood as the trail dipped into her eye. He offered his hand, helping her to her feet. Without a word, he began to heal the cut but she slapped his arm away.

  
“Fenedhis, Solas. Get yourself to the Chantry with the others.”

“You’re coming with me.” She shook her head, opened her mouth to object. “That was not a request, Lethallan.”  
She paused, peering at him, surprised. The word had been thoughtless, spoken in the rush of his panic. They were not kin. Not yet that familiar. Still, he did not seek to correct himself.

The dragon screamed as it flew overhead causing both of them to duck reflexively. It would have done little to save them had the beast struck their position. “Sahlin.” He snapped, taking her wrist and pulling her toward the path to the Chantry. She slipped herself from his grasp but kept pace, quickening her stride alongside him.

The scene inside the sanctuary overwhelmed him. The wounded groans, the desperate calling out for lost loved ones, shouts of relief at sudden reunions. The din was oppressive. There were very few mages tending to the injured. Had they lost that many healers? The elves moved forward through the crowd, Solas quick to offer aid. Healing was not a skill she possessed, but she did what she could to help until Cullen pulled her away to speak.

***

“Are you mad?” Solas snapped. “You’ve sent her out there to die!”

The Commander’s face hardened. “And her sacrifice will mean nothing if everyone here is buried under the mountainside. This is our only chance.”

Solas shook his head angrily, collecting his staff. Cullen grabbed him roughly by the shoulder as he headed toward the doors. “She’s long gone and your skills are needed here. Help evacuate the wounded. I will have you dragged along with us if I must.” The human looked pained, worry etched into his features. “I don’t want it to come to that.”  
The mage looked to the doors again, his stomach sinking. He gave a short, reluctant nod, resigning himself to flee with the others.

***

The wind numbed his skin, whipping through the improvised encampment. They did not have enough tents. Not enough blankets. Too many of their healers were dead or dying or missing. The advisors were squabbling, shouting. Some wanted to search for her, but there was no knowing where to start looking. In her absence, things were already beginning to unravel. They were a newly birthed organization and the shemlen had sent their own head to be loped off. This thought tore at him bitterly. He had seen this before, hundreds of times throughout the centuries. Orders and empires and faiths crumbled over the simple removal of a single element. For the Inquisition, she was that element.

The wails of the wounded disturbed his thoughts. He had done all he could for them, summoning spirits of compassion to aid in the healing. The task was difficult. His mind was clouded, his chest tight.

He had let her slip away from his attention, distracted by the chaos in the Chantry. He let her volunteer to die. If he had been watching more closely, he would have seen her leave, would have been able to follow, to stop her.  
He could not abandon the thought that this was his fault. She bore the power of his foci in her flesh. He had brought this upon her in his foolishness. None of this would have happened if he had kept the orb to himself; if he’d found another way. She would not be marked; she would not have thrown herself into danger. He never would have met her, but at least she would be safe. At least she would be alive.

_No. You do not know that she’s dead. Do not assume what you cannot know. Look only to the facts in front of you. Focus._

He had been observing her for weeks. He quietly volunteered to accompany her on her travels, watched her as she moved through Haven. She was a mystery, an accident of fate, a possible answer that had fallen into his lap. His initial assumptions about her nature were ill-formed. Even though she still held onto her naïve desire to worship beings she had no true knowledge of, she was unlike the Dalish in every other aspect. She was cautious. Thoughtful. Compassionate, even to the shemlen her people so vehemently despised. She possessed a deeper understanding of magic than he had given her credit for and her thirst to learn more seemed unquenchable. Rather than being repelled or resistant to the information he shared about the nature of spirits and the Fade, he’d watch as her eyes brightened with fascination. She had already spent more than one evening with him, commanding his attention, peppering him with questions about his experiences until the blush of early morning fell upon the sky. She was unexpected. Captivating. Details that had seemed inconsequential began to spark his notice. The way one brow would lift before she said something teasing or coy, the tilt of her ears as she mulled over a thought. He began to feel warmed when his words brought a smile to her lips, pleased when she favored him with the roundness of her laughter.

Visions of her began to creep into his dreams, his desires undeniable. He would not act on them. He couldn’t. But it did not stop the Fade from showing him what he wanted. The temptation to slip into her sleeping mind lingered, an indulgence he did not allow himself. He tried to now, closing his eyes, sinking into an uneasy rest. This wasn’t the pleasured escape he had envisioned for his first time seeking her in the Fade. This was an aching hunt, a desperate need to cling to some hope that she was still out there, connected to him in some way. If he found her mind, maybe he could discover where she lay sleeping, tell her where to seek them.

He could sense nothing. He supposed that could be good news. Wherever she was, she was conscious.  
But the dead do not dream either.

***

The sound of Cassandra’s shouts lifted him from his thoughts. He was on his feet in an instant, rushing forward, a tiny well of doubtful hope in his core. The moment he saw her, limp and frozen in Cullen’s arms, his body flooded with terrified relief. The next few moments were a blur, a mad rush, gathering blankets, clearing a bedroll. Solas sank to the ground beside her once Cullen laid her down, the human pink-faced and panting from his run through the snow. Her heartbeat was slow, her pulse weak. Even in his concern, Solas could not help but smile. The impossibility of this moment did not escape him. There was no reason she should be alive. The likelihood that she would have survived the avalanche, the chances that she would have stumbled so close to their camp, the probability of her being found in the darkened wastes— he did not believe in the miraculous, but this moment came as close as one could.

Solas began to cast a dampened fire spell, heating his hands and pressing them to her skin. She felt like ice, chilled so thoroughly that it made his nerve endings sting to touch her. He ran his fingertips along her ears, trailing down to cup her neck. Her skin was wet with melted snow. It was a blessing she didn’t suffer any major tissue damage. Cullen stayed kneeling beside them, watching nervously as others hovered nearby.

“This will take time.” The mage said quietly, looking at the Commander and tilting his head toward the crowd. Cullen understood his meaning and nodded, rising to his feet, dispersing the onlookers.

The moments seemed to stretch on as he touched her face and neck, the rest of her body bundled under layers of blankets and furs. His eyes kept searching her features, looking for some sign that she would awaken. “Dar’then emm’asha.” He murmured, cupping her jaw, his thumbs stroking heat into her cheeks. Her breaths deepened gradually, her body beginning to shiver. Her eyes shifted beneath her closed lids as her brow furrowed. A small noise emerged from her throat, something close to a whimper. It seemed far too delicate for the savage warrior he had seen only hours before. One eye fluttered open, the second soon following. She peered at him, blinking away groggy confusion.

The smile that spread over her lips as she looked up at him was sweeter than any she had given him before.

“Aneth ara.” She rasped, licking the dry and rough skin of her lips.

He grinned. “Andaran atish’an.”

Her lids drooped heavily. “You’re a welcome sight.”

“I could say the same.”

“Did I stop them?” She asked, her eyes closing once more.

“The dragon flew off. The remaining Templars were buried.”

“And Corypheus?”

His smile sank. “Who?” He asked, feigning ignorance even as his stomach twisted with guilt.

“The Elder One.” She murmured. “He was here…”

He shushed her, stroking her cheek. “That is a worry for another time. The danger has passed now. Hamin sahlin, Lethallan.”

Her lips curled, her cheeks lifting under his touch as she hummed. “I could get used to you calling me that, Lethallin.” She hissed as a violent shudder stiffened her shoulders. She shifted, lifting one hand from her blankets. Her fingers were cold as stone as they slid across the back of his hand, drawing it from her cheek and slipping it under the blankets to rest on her stomach. A small sigh of relief rose from her as she wrapped her hands around his. “I’d ask you to crawl under here and warm me up, but I think people would start talking.” She said, her laugher broken by her shivering breaths.

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“While I appreciate the attention to my face,” she began, “I’d say you missed a spot. My nose is colder than a mabari’s.”

He chuckled, sweeping his thumb slowly from bridge to tip, eliciting a small coo from her as her eyes fluttered closed. His features darkened, a line creasing his brow. “You should have told me you were leaving.”

“Aww. You worried. That’s sweet.”

He withdrew his hand from her face. “I am being serious.”

“You’re always serious, Solas.” She looked up at him, her smile softening. “Would you have turned back when I told the others to?” His lips parted to respond, but his words lost their resolve. He paused, his gaze shifting away. She laced her fingers with his own under the blanket. “I didn’t want you following me if I thought you wouldn’t return. You’re a good friend, falon. Ma dar’enansal. Emma serannas.”

“Ar dar’sulevin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts about Lethallan/Lethallin: In my personal headcanon, lethallan is a term that would be used easily between the Dalish, but not so between Dalish and city elves. They are both elves, but they are not of the same people. So for her to use that term with him, and vice versa, denotes a friendship that is close enough to refer to each other as kin. It's no declaration of love by any means. It is a minor thing. But in this context, it is significant. 
> 
> Fan fiction spoiler warning (If you care about such things.):
> 
> Her experiences in Red Lyrium fueled her decision to slip away from Solas and not give him the option of following her on her suicide mission. Ever since Redcliffe, she held a lingering fear that he would throw himself into danger in an attempt to protect her as he had done in this vision of the future. She didn’t want to risk that happening again.
> 
> ***  
> Translations:  
> Fenedhis – a common curse  
> Lethellan/lethallin – kin, cousin, relative, or a close friend  
> sahlin - now  
> dar’then emm’asha – be awake, my girl  
> Aneth ara – friendly greeting, usually used among the Dalish rather than with outsiders.  
> Andaran atish’an – formal greeting  
> hamin sahlin – rest now  
> falon - friend  
> Ma dar’enansal - You are a gift.  
> emma serannas – I am grateful.  
> Ar dar’sulevin - I know.
> 
> ***
> 
> You can find me over at geeky-jez.tumblr.com. Feel free to follow and/or send me a message!


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